Pirates of the Caribbean: Return of the Flying Dutchman
by WriterfromWarDrobe
Summary: A pearl that can control sea, time, and immortality. The Flying Dutchman is without a captain. A feisty redhead from Tortuga creates a new identity for herself. Carina vows to resurrect her father. With the stage set, Jack and the crew make for the Bermuda Triangle to save one of their own from being bound to the Dutchman forever. Previously the one-shot "My Name is Barbossa."
1. My Name is Barbossa

**My Name is Barbossa**

 **By WriterfromWarDrobe**

"You're not like other girls on Tortuga!"

Rose kept the pistol trained on the pirate's face. "Then go find another girl." Her voice was steady. The pistol never trembled.

The pirate turned away. "An' you be the daughter of Scarlett!" he grumbled.

Rose's mother had wiles, and they had made her rich. But Scarlett would have to give up something to earn the coins. Rose gave up nothing and went straight for the gold.

She remained perched on the table and did not lower her gun until the customer had departed from the tavern. A few other pirates, sucking on pints of rum, had been eyeing her from the moment they had entered, but after watching her scare off a couple of tough brutes, they thought better of introducing themselves to the redhead. "So, that's Rose," they whispered; they had heard of her. And with their own eyes they saw that the rumors about her were true: she would bring a pirate no pleasure.

The weapon vanished into the folds of her skirts, and she strutted across the tavern floor. Pirates moved out of the way for her. She had a love for gold and pistols, and everyone checked their pockets when she walked by to be certain she had not robbed them blind.

She had robbed a ship; everyone knew, but none knew where she had hidden her portion of the loot. Rose knew exactly where it was: Captain Redbeard had run off with her share. She had killed men for Redbeard, covered his retreat, and he had not come through with what he had promised her. That was well over a year ago. With that loot, Rose could have gotten out of Tortuga, sailed the seas, seen the world, lived the life she pleased for over a year.

Scarlett had tried to teach her daughter how to be charming; Rose had learned weaponry instead. Scarlett loved the attention her job brought her, but Rose doubted if her mother loved the job. She knew the truth about why her mother was even in Tortuga: falsely promised marriage by Captain Jack Sparrow and tricked into being sold at a bride auction to a pirate lord. Rose had known the name Jack Sparrow from infancy, known that he had visited Tortuga several times during her lifetime, but she had not known how to shoot a pistol then. The next time Jack visited Tortuga would be his last.

From behind the counter, Rose served rum without the giddy laughter and jokes the other women participated in. She was cold but her hair was like fire, and every pirate wanted her to give him a drink so that he could shyly look upon her. She would offer them nothing else.

The tavern-owner slipped quietly over to her. He was a big man with a soft voice. "There's a gentlemen upstairs, and I've promised him some company."

Rose fumed. "You know I will not see him."

"I think you'll see him." The tavernkeeper's voice was smooth and all-knowing. "His ship is leaving in the morning. You could get passage. He owes you that much."

Rose put a hand on her hip. "Who is he?"

"Redbeard. Third room on the left."

With a hand already inching toward her concealed weapon, Rose turned on her heel and marched up the stairs.

Over a year.

Over a year that she could have spent anywhere but here. With enough money to live like a queen.

Redbeard would pay for the year he had robbed her.

She knocked on the door and called in a demure voice. "Red?"

There was no answer from within. Rose tried the doorknob and the door slid open. The small chamber within was dim, with only some faint blue, evening light spilling in from behind the fluttering, white curtains. The bedclothes were disheveled, the rug askew, the washstand overturned. Rose withdrew the gun. These were signs of a struggle.

"Red?"

She saw the toe of a black boot poking up from behind the bed. She moved over to it quickly, almost unsurprised by the sight that met her: Redbeard on his back, lifeless eyes facing the ceiling, a dagger in his heart.

"Lovely," Rose hissed. "Apparently, I wasn't the only one you owed." She kicked his boot.

No way off Tortuga. No way of knowing where her gold was hidden.

She stared down at him. Slowly, she bent and removed his captain's hat. It fit perfectly over her red tangles. She unbelted his sword and wrapped it around her waist. She faced the cracked mirror. "Shame," she grumbled, running her finger over the feather in the hat. She looked like a pirate captain - she knew as much about ships as any captain. But everyone on Tortuga knew she was Rose, daughter of Scarlett; they knew she was no captain.

 _Knock_. The door creaked inward because Rose had not latched it. A cabin boy in a cloak peeked into the room. "Excuse me, is this Captain Redbeard's room?" he asked in a husky voice.

"Who's asking?"

"I'm looking for someone to captain my ship."

"Your ship?" Rose eyed the boy. "Have you ever met Captain Red before?"

"No, ma'am." The hood of the cloak was up and it shook.

Rose moved back around the side of the bed to keep the boy from coming toward her and discovering the body. "I am Captain Red."

"You? You haven't a beard."

"Merely an alias, my boy." Her voice was steady. Her lies were as smooth as silk. "Tell me more about your ship."

"It's my father's ship." He came into the room. "I've a crew, but no knowledge to run them and the ship myself. I heard Redbea-er...um...Red, that you are a decent pirate."

Rose scoffed.

"Are you not?"

Rose quickly recovered. "As honest as any pirate, I should say."

"Yes...well, this is a delicate mission."

"Go on."

The boy fidgeted. "It involves the supernatural." There was a long pause. The boy looked out in the hall and closed the door. "You must swear to captain my ship before I explain."

"I swear." Was she really that desperate to leave that she would not ask questions first? Yes. Rose was a little taller than the boy. She could overtake his ship and do as she pleased.

"It must be in writing." A sheet of parchment appeared from behind the cloak. "This is our contract. You serve me and I will pay you 1,000 gold coins."

"You have that kind of money?"

"My father was a wealthy pirate."

Rose glanced over the contract. She could only read a few words. The boy indicated where her signature should go. She knew how to write 'Captain' and 'Red.'

Redd.

She liked it with two d's better.

She squinted again at the contract. "And what be our mission?"

"To find my father."

"And the supernatural part?"

"He was killed at sea, but a witch told me he could be rescued and brought back to life."

Rose crossed her arms. The boy would be pushed overboard first chance she got. "And how do you propose we find your father?"

"We will have to confiscate _The Flying Dutchman_."

Rose had heard of the ship that collected the souls of dead seamen and carried them over to the Other Side. "Once the _Dutchman_ takes 'em, they don't come back," Rose repeated the folklore; she did not believe in the story herself. She almost felt sorry for this imaginative child.

"The _Dutchmen_ hasn't a captain; it has not been able to do it's duty since all the curses of the sea were broken."

Poor boy. She should just shoot him now.

"I know it sounds crazy, but you'll have to trust me. And I promise, you will be paid handsomely whatever happens."

Ship. Treasure. Live the life she pleased.

"The supernatural doesn't bother me," Rose smirked. All these kinds of stories came from delusional pirates filled with rum.

She was leaving Tortuga.

She glanced at the contract again. Contracts could be broken. She stared at the other signature, but she could not read it.

"I don't believe I got your name."

Slowly, pale hands unused to sailing rose and pushed back the hood. A feminine face shone in the wan light and black curls tumbled over her shoulders. Her voice lost its husky tone. "Barbossa. My name is Barbossa."

 **I do not own** _ **Pirates of the Caribbean**_ **. While I doubt the rumors about Captain Jack Sparrow not returning for another** _ **Pirates**_ **film, I wanted to play around with the idea of Captain Redd joining the cast and see how she might fit into the existing storylines.**


	2. Becoming Captain Redd

**Becoming Captain Redd**

Drunk pirates singing songs off-key. Women swooning at their idiotic words. Someone being thrown out of a tavern, someone laughing amidst gunfire, someone seated precariously on a barrel. For a crime unknown, a man was dunked into a well, and for a crime made obvious by the nightgown in a pirate's hand, a poor wench peeked out of a barrel. Ah, Tortuga. If all other towns were nothing like Tortuga, they would be lonely places. And Rose was looking forward to being lonely.

She pranced down the street that bright Caribbean morning with a smile that no pirate had ever seen on her before. Still, few were brave enough to take advantage of her good mood. Rose's jaunt to the wig-maker's was mostly unhindered, and she entered the little establishment with such gusto, the owner got jittery. Rose, daughter of Scarlett, who never had a kind word for anyone, was smiling? That was enough to make any man want to shrink away from her.

"You make fine work," Rose lied as she observed the scraggly wigs made of an unattractive combination of human and animal hair. "You're in the business for disguises?"

"Well, it's not as though I get paid to outfit the heads of Parliament, mind you," the owner said, brushing back his own thin, greasy hair. He was dressed in probably the nicest clothes to be found in Tortuga - they were out of date by nearly two decades and every tear, instead of being sewn back together, was held in place by mismatched buttons.

"Well, I don't happen to be a member of Parliament, so you'll have to do." She tossed a burlap sack onto the counter.

The man opened it and pulled out a handful of long, course, red hair - painstakingly cut and plucked from Redbeard's own face. "The hair of yer own head be far fairer than this."

"I want a beard." Rose hastily went on when the owner looked as though he was about to protest. "McScurvy is havin' a party tonight and as a joke, I'll be the bearded lady."

"Oh," the wig-maker muttered. "Tonight. So soon."

"You can have it done by then." It was not a question. Rose tossed the small pouch of coins she had stashed in her pocket onto the counter. That was all the money she had. Everyone thought she had more because of the raid. The owner hefted the heavy purse, his eyes wide. Well, let them all think Rose had loot. Pretty soon, she would actually have wealth, plunder, a ship. " _You can have it done by then_ ," she stressed.

"Yes!" the man gasped breathlessly.

Rose smiled and left the place.

~0~

"Luke! What in blazes be ye doin'?" exclaimed a young man, his clothes stained with rum and rumpled from a fight the previous night. He had just come out of a building into the alleyway to find his companion, a man slightly younger than him, scrubbing himself in a barrel full of bubbles.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" the man in the barrel remarked nonchalantly. "I'm taking a bath."

The first man frowned. "We didn't escape impressment into the British Navy jest so's ye can take a bah-th. Ye 'aven't quite got this whole pirate thing down, 'ave ye? Get out of there!"

At the vehemence of his friend's tone, Luke attempted to respond. He shifted around in the tub, water and suds splashing over the sides, as he frantically looked around.

"I say-d 'Get out!'"

"I can't."

"And why can't ye?"

"My clothes are gone. Someone's swiped my clothes!"

~0~

"Begging your pardon, miss, but when is Captain Redbeard to be joining us?" asked Mullroy, joining Carina at the starboard rail of the _Queen Anne's Revenge_.

Carina leaned over the rail, gazing at the gap between ship and dock. The water looked black in the shadows as the sun dipped behind the tall masts of her late father's ship. _Where was that woman?_ Carina never should have trusted the redhead who claimed to be the pirate captain she sought. Captain Redd, as she had called herself, had been nothing more than an actress hoping to gain a little cash, but had turned her back on Carina and her crew when Carina had failed to offer any money up front. No, that redhead would not show up. Carina turned to face the pirate at her side, prepared to tell him that they could no longer expect 'Captain Redbeard' to be joining them.

"This be the _Queen Anne's Revenge_?"

Carina whipped around to the other side of her, surprised by the resounding voice of a newcomer on the gangplank.

"I hear you be looking for a captain."

Carina gawked as the man with the commanding - albeit high - voice marched onto the deck of the ship. Carina's crew gathered to stare at the lean figure with long, red beard that fell over almost clean, linen shirt. The swordbelt and red sash wrapped the waist above grey trousers and tall boots. The hat was set at rakish angle.

"I be Captain Redd. I believe you asked me to take command of this lot, cabin boy."

Carina blinked out of her stupor. "Barbossa," she corrected.

"Is all made ready to disembark?" the new captain asked.

"Yes, we were just waiting for you." Carina's voice was still mystified.

"Weigh anchor! Unfurl the sails-!" Captain Redd began before getting cut off by a middle-aged pirate.

"Wait just a moment! I've known Captain Redbeard afore, and this ain't him!"

Captain Redd did not waste a moment, explaining. "Precisely. Every pirate with a red beard is called Captain Redbeard. Every pirate with a black beard is Captain Blackbeard. And every pirate with a blue beard is Captain Bluebeard. I have done something to distinguish myself from that lot."

Mullroy rubbed his hand on his chin. "That makes sense."

Carina rolled her eyes as the crew slowly nodded their agreement to Captain Redd's logic. She was realizing that having a gullible crew and a smart captain was a good thing - less chance of mutiny.

"Now if there be no more doubts as to my identity, I suggest we make sail."

The middle-aged pirate raised his hand as if to protest again.

Redd carried on with her instructions. "And if I don't see men in their places, gettin' this ship out of port in two minutes, I will shoot the first idler I see."

The middle-aged pirate blinked into the business end of Redd's pistol. While everyone else started backward at the sight of the weapon suddenly flashing into view, the pirate only frowned and pushed the gun out of the way.

"Ye won't be doin' that. Ye 'aven't the gut an' know-how. Ye're an all-talk, big-threats cap'n."

Steely gaze fixed on the pirate, Redd pointed the pistol into the air and shot it as if marking the beginning of a race.

The pirate laughed. "Look at h'us run," he joked at how everyone had stayed in their current positions. Next instant, a man fell dead onto the deck and every pirate was galvanized into motion.

"My lookout!" Carina exclaimed, gazing up at the crow's nest.

"Yes," Captain Redd remarked nonchalantly, coming over to Carina, blowing the steam from the hole of the pistol, "you'll be needing another one of those."

Carina's eyes flashed. "I did not hire you to kill off my crew."

"And neither was I hired to be shown disrespect by the crew." Redd tucked the weapon into the sash. "Now if you would be so kind as to show me to my captain's quarters."

"You're to sleep with the men in the hold."

Redd leaned in close to Carina. "I think you and I both know that is out of the question. If you want me to continue my charade, I shall need some privacy. I will take the captain's quarters," she finished with finality, brushing past Carina and moving toward the stern.

Carina hissed after the captain, "But that is my room."

"Good, I needed a cabin boy."

 **I have been inspired by watching through the Pirates films to continue this if there is interest. Please leave a review or hit the Favorite/Follow button to let me know that you would like to see more.**


	3. A Swift Flight

**A Swift Flight**

Henry blinked in the bright Saint Martin sun. The jailkeeper banged the iron door shut behind the young man, and Henry heard the bolts being drawn. His visit with the Sea Witch was behind him. Now that he was back on the street, he realized he had more questions than answers. He had not expected the information the Witch had given; then again, it was exactly what he had expected.

His father would not be pleased.

Henry wandered the city, reflecting on his previous visit to Saint Martin over a year ago when he had escaped the hospital with the help of Carina whom he had then saved from the hangman's noose. He had not expected to fall in love with the daring woman who had disguised herself as a nurse, who believed that Henry held the key to finding Poseidon's Trident. He had thought he held another key: the one to her own heart.

He paused, recognizing the town square. This was where the executioner had set up his tools of death, where Henry had swung into the crowd as a diversion while the Captain Jack Sparrow's crew made ready to rescue Jack and Carina. Henry frowned to avoid the tears as he stared at the spot where he caught Carina in his arms. Although it had been an awkward position with Carina on the verge of having her neck broken if Henry had lost his hold, it had become a moment he and Carina had joked about, saying it was the moment where it all began.

Henry diverted his attention to the church tower from where he had swung down into the crowd. What a fool he must have looked, but he would do it again if Carina needed saving. Henry balled his fists. After days of false leads, the Sea Witch had offered him what he needed to continue his pursuit. But she had given him something else to ponder. Should he go directly home to Jamaica to tell his father and forfeit pursuing Carina's trail while it was still warm?

In his mind, Henry swung from the tower once more and ran to where the gallows had been erected. Carina was not there, rather she was disappearing down the alleyway from where Jack's crew had materialized with the canon. Snapping out of his daydream, Henry turned down this alley.

He would need a crew.

~0~

"In addition to the account books, you'll fill out the log." George Swift and his nephew emerged from the inner office of the Swift and Son Chart House. "I keep documentation on all clients. With such delicate instruments, I can't allow just anyone to be touching them."

"Of course," his nephew, Philip, nodded before something behind his uncle's head caught his attention. Hanging down from the opening in the roof for the telescope was a rope. At its end was a man, upside-down, suspended from his feet, shoving maps into the sash at his waist and being unsuccessful at it due to his position.

It couldn't be.

But even after six years, Philip Swift would know that pirate anywhere.

"If you have the time, you could do a little dusting, but I do so want you to be careful. As you know by the records, I cannot afford any more losses." George studied Philip's expression. "What are you…" He began to turn around to face the room.

"You never explained how you came to be in debt," Philip said quickly, to divert his uncle's gaze back to his face.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he sighed.

"Wouldn't I?" Philip glanced over at the pirate, who was attempting to hoist himself up to the roof. The rope, which was tied to the thief's ankles, went up to the roof, looped around the chimney, and dipped back down beside him for him to climb up.

"You'll hear the rumors, I suppose. Deny them all, if...if you can. I know your policy on honesty. But it doesn't hurt my business to tell a little lie." George was getting fidgety. "Well, there was a woman and a pirate in my shop - and I do not allow that! And then a bank went through. Tore out the wall."

"Incredible." Philip watched as the pirate's feet bumped Herschel out of alignment.

"Yes." George was in a bit of a daze. "A bank?"

The pirate had formed a human triangle, legs and arms in the air, back horizontally floating over a table. He continued upward, hand over hand.

"Well, enough about that. This will get us back on our feet." George, in a better mood, pivoted on his heel before Philip could distract him. Intent on his task, George did not even look up, eyes scanning the table the pirate had vacated. "Ah, here it is. An astrolabe from Arabia. I know a gentleman who will pay handsomely for it."

Philip tried to not keep looking up for fear of giving the pirate away. But why had the pirate not taken the astrolabe, if it was worth a pretty penny?

"There were some drawings too, silly things. Maybe because of your sea experience - that Fountain of Youth quest - you'll find the drawings interesting." George examined the table. The pirate's hands slipped down the rope and he was now hanging directly over the proprietor's head. Philip blinked, uncertain what to do. "That's funny," George muttered, suddenly bending and inspecting the floor. Philip released a sigh of relief. "They're missing. They haven't fallen."

Because the pirate had slipped down a little lower, Philip knew that his uncle's head would make contact with the pirate when he stood back up. Moving quickly, Philip rushed forward and swung the pirate to the left. George straightened.

"I don't know where those drawings could have gone," he remarked. Shrugging goodnaturedly, he added, "More your loss than mine. Let's have the astrolabe."

Philip reached for the round object on the table, allowing it to slip through his fingers. Both George and Philip dived toward the floor to catch it. And Jack Sparrow, on his return from the direction Philip had shoved him, sailed over their heads.

"You mustn't be such a butter fingers. I can't afford it!" George shrieked, straightening.

Jack, now on the opposite side of the room, attempted to find some purchase on the wall of maps that might afford him a moment's rest. Finding nothing, arm outstretched, other hand still holding the rope, he began to sail back the way he came. Just then, the door opened and Jack caught the top of the door, halting him.

"Aw, a customer," George sang out, turning at the sound of the bell at the top of the door. His eyes were focused on the man who was entering, dressed in a brocade vest under a green velvet jacket. "Lord Cameron, he's here for the astrolabe," George whispered to his nephew before nodding his head in respect to the lord.

The smartly-dressed servant of the lord, a young boy, who had opened the door, was looking behind the door to see who was holding it. Philip rushed to hold the door by the knob. "I've got it," he told the boy.

"Shall we adjourn into the study, my lord? I have some tea, and we can discuss our business there," George was saying, directing the way to a side room. "And, Philip, would you mind closing the door now. You're letting in a draft."

Philip's eyes widened at the request. George, not hearing the bell ring with the shutting of the door, glanced back curiously. "Now, if you'd please." He turned to his esteemed customer. "So hard to find good help these days."

Philip tried to push the door closed, but it would not budge. Looking up, he saw Jack looking down at him. _Let go_ , Philip mouthed. Jack shook his head. Philip repeated his request in a desperate whisper.

Almost embarrassed to look back to see why Philip was failing at his simple task, George tried to hurry the lord along.

Meanwhile, the servant boy was watching Philip. When he glanced up, his pristine white wig shot up his dark forehead in surprise. Jack put a finger to his lips, realizing a milisecond too late that he had let go of the door. Philip slammed the door shut with a resounding thud, which made both George and Lord Cameron spin around in surprise. All they saw at first, however, was just the boy standing in the middle of the room, slack-jawed.

"He's mesmerized by the telescope," the lord concluded just before a bookend crashed to the floor.

All eyes turned upward. Jack, sailing overhead, with his hand stuck out, had knocked a bookend off the top shelf of a tall bookcase, and the books on that shelf began to topple in domineo effect.

"Pirate!" George shrieked, suddenly turning hysterical. "Philip, stop him!" The words were barely out his mouth before he and the lord dropped to the ground to allow Jack passage over their heads.

By now, the last book had fallen over, dislodging the second bookend. It was a large iron piece in the shape of a horse head. It plummeted downward, crashing onto and upending a table on which rested a globe of the earth. Jack, returning on his backward swing, lowering himself as he went, forcing George and Lord Cameron to remain flat on the floor, caught himself onto the lower portion of the telescope where the eyepiece was. Next instant, the globe that had been shot off the table as though it were on a catapult, made contact with the upper part of the telescope, causing it to bend down toward the wall. It was all the inertia Jack needed to be propelled like a dart from a spring-loaded crossbow to the roof.

George, his eyes bulging out of his head, screamed for Philip again, but his nephew was no where to be seen.

~0~

Henry hastened to the docks, mulling over his news from the Sea Witch as he went. He was brought out of his thoughts when he noticed a shadow on the ground. He looked up but saw no one running in front of him with his hands in the air like a certain pirate Henry knew. Henry glanced back down to try to identify the shadow, but it was gone. Henry continued on his way, until movement on the ground ahead of him caught his attention. Running to catch up with it, Henry knew that he was staring at the shadow of one Captian Jack Sparrow. The familiar shape of the pirate was on the run. Then he jumped over a casim of light, where there was no shadow. Henry again looked up to only see the darkened fronts of warehouses and a drunkard staring at him as if he were mad. Well, maybe he was.

With a sudden realization, Henry blinked up at the sun. Flapping his eyelids rapidly, Henry studied the rooftops. Sure enough, there was the receding figure of the all too familiar pirate.

Henry gave chase.

~0~

Dropping into a hay cart, Jack got his bearings about him before sliding down to the cobblestone road. Turning the corner, Jack saw the horse he had left tied to a post running down the road at full gallop.

"You're not getting away that easily, Jack."

The pirate captain turned around slowly to face the culprit who had let loose his horse. "You could have turned me in back there, but you didn't, which means to me that you have need of me. Undoubtedly. Though you could be just a kind, religious soul, out to do one good turn after another, but the loss of my horse would suggest otherwise. Savvy?"

"I need those drawings," Philip said sternly.

Jack crossed his arms. "No," he replied, plainly.

"I need them, Jack."

"No...you need me. Because you could have gotten them back in the Chart House for your uncle, if in fact you were planning on getting them back for your uncle, which you do not, otherwise you would not have chased me. Therefore, I can only assume you knew all along that these were not silly drawings and that they held some importance which is why both you and I want them. So, churchman, what's so interesting to the Bermunda Triangle to you?"

Philip wet his lips. "Nothing."

"Oh, well then." Jack reached his hand into a barrel full of water and pulled out his hat. With a deft flick of his wrist, water drops flew from the hat, splattering over Philip's shirtsleeves and vest. Then, with a slight grimace, Jack settled the soggy mass onto his head. "If it's of no interest, good day!"

Jack knew even as he walked away that Philip's heart was pounding. "It's about Syrena!" he shouted.

"Who?" Jack kept walking.

"The mer-" Philip lowered his voice and hurried to catch up. "The mermaid. You know her."

"Mermaid? Nasty folk, try to avoid 'em."

"She was cursed by the Sea Witch, to forget about me."

"I forgot about you without a curse."

"Jack!"

With a look of surprise, both Jack and Philip turned around to see who had shouted for the pirate. The only person on the deserted back street was a young man, huffing and puffing to catch up. Jack's eyes widened in realization. He grabbed Philip by the collar.

"I need a blessing, a charm, an incantation, anything to keep that hex away from me!"

Philip pulled Jack's fingers from his collar, shaking his head. "The Good Lord teaches us to love our neighbors."

"He wouldn't have if He'd met this whelp." Jack turned with a fake smile plastered on his lips to greet the newcomer. "Henry! Spawn of a Turner. It's such a joy...a jo…" Jack made a whimpering noise in the back of his throat as he tried to finish the nicety. "You must have...your own little Turnerian misfits by now." Jack twiddled his fingers as if they were touching something squishy that he could not let go.

"No, Jack. You see, Carina left me-"

"Smart girl! She and Syrena go to the head of the class."

"She's trying to resurrect her father," Henry hurriedly finished.

Jack stared back at Henry. "How?" both he and Philip asked.

"By commandeering the _Dutchman_."

Jack's brow crinkled. "But the _Dutchman_ hasn't a captain."

"For which, she will need one." Henry's eyes were bright. "She will damn herself to the _Dutchman_."


End file.
